


Silent Storm

by Litsetaure



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst and Feels, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Gay Relationship, Emotional Hurt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Anguish, Misunderstandings, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Some Fluff, Summer of 1899, What Have I Done, Young Albus Dumbledore, Young Gellert Grindelwald, picking up the pieces, supposed character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-11
Updated: 2019-05-23
Packaged: 2020-03-01 05:30:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18793963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Litsetaure/pseuds/Litsetaure
Summary: When everything blows up, the consequences are truly devastating.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, I wondered why Gellert would leave in such a state after the threeway duel, and this idea just suddenly came to me - what if he thought Albus was the one who had died? - and refused to leave me alone until I decided to just write the thing!

It was far worse than Gellert could have anticipated. Even in his vision, where he had not been able to break free of the fierce emotion filling the room, it had been nothing like this. Of all the people he had ever believed he and Albus could have ended up in a lethal duel with, Aberforth Dumbledore would never have crossed his mind. He might have viscerally disliked other boy, and been equally loathed in return, but he had never considered that their animosity could have exploded in such a way. He had certainly not wished for it to be so - largely, he would not deny, for Albus’ sake - but neither had he been able to stand by, fury boiling in his blood, while the foolish little boy spoke to them with such arrogance, lashing out as though he knew the ways of the world better than his own brother, or even Gellert himself, did.

But had Gellert honestly contemplated that such a scene could ever have been close to beautiful? If so, he could tell that his vision had radically misrepresented it. As much as he might have relished and embraced power and the danger that flowed through it, there was absolutely nothing about this that could be called beautiful. Instead, it was terrifying and heartbreaking. Spells flew, wild and erratic, ripping apart curtains and scorching the walls. 

A curse shot over his head, smashing into an old vase and scattering sharp shards of china everywhere. He yelled and grabbed Albus’ arm, pulling him out of the way before one of them could leave a gash in his throat. Albus’ eyes met his for a brief second, and Gellert recoiled at the look of devastated betrayal and confusion that was fixed on him before he turned away and deflected yet another spell before it could hit him. 

A cry of shock suddenly erupted through the room, and Gellert’s heart nearly stopped. He knew that sound, even if he had only heard it once before. If he turned around now, he knew exactly what would be there, and he was not sure that he could face it, knowing what he had Seen happen. And yet, he knew that if he ignored it, he would be just as complicit in what followed.

He had already caused enough damage. There was no way he could simply stand by and do nothing now. 

“Don’t hurt them!” he cried out, even as he threw out a spell to strike the wild black tendrils that lashed far too close to Albus’ face. “Don’t…please, don’t hurt them!” 

He was not negotiating with the dark parasite, rather he hoped to reach the host, the sweet and kind girl who had been so tormented by an unstoppable force she could not control or understand. He hoped that she could hear him, that perhaps he could calm her, even as he and her brothers fought against the thing that still tried to tear their world apart. 

“Please don’t hurt them,” he begged again, his voice sounding pathetically quiet through the flashes and screams of the ongoing battle. Another spell dissolved against the oppressive cloud, though whose wand it had come from, he could not say. “Hurt me instead! It’s my fault, I know, I did it! Just don’t -”

Suddenly, the Obscurus seemed to shrink and contract, as though it was collapsing within itself. It spun and shook violently, sparks of light crackling around it as it pulsed with energy. Then, accompanied by a deathly scream, it burst outwards again in a blast of thunderous clouds that threatened to obliterate everything in its path. 

“No!” Without stopping to think, Gellert cast the strongest shielding spell he knew as he rushed towards Albus, pushing him to the ground, away from the cruel lashes and covering him with his own body. But the furious energy blasting through the room was too strong and Gellert found himself flung backwards in a fiery explosion of smoke and sparks. 

When he managed to look up again, silence had filled the room and the air was thick with falling clouds of dust. He blinked and sat up carefully, trying to regain his bearings. 

“Albus?” he softly called out, coughing and choking as flecks of grime stuck in his throat. “Albus, are you all right? Where are you?” 

He rubbed his eyes, wincing at their raw dryness, and looked around, watching the fragments settle around the aftermath of the fight. Ornaments had been left in pieces on the floor, the torn curtains flopped heavily in the humid summer breeze and several pieces of furniture had been cast away and were now lying, bruised and cracked, against the magic-blistered walls. It was a scene of brutal and desperate carnage, a bloody rout of civilisation and reason.  

But everything faded away into silence and mist when a burst of dust paused in mid-air before settling around a body curled up and lying still on the floor, bright red curls fanned out limply behind him. 

“Albus?” Gellert dragged himself to his feet, even as the room tilted alarmingly around him. He rushed over and fell back to his knees beside his partner, gently turning him over to face him and rubbing his cold hands, not caring who might see him. “Hey now, come on, wake up. It’s all over. Wake up...” 

He shook him gently, only then noticing the angry burn slashed across his collarbone, red, raw and yet weeping with tiny wisps of angry black smoke. “Merlin’s beard, what _is_ that?” he whispered, swearing as it sparked and hissed in response to the basic healing charm he cast over it. He tried dousing it with water, as he would with any other burn, but that only made the wound almost recoil and Albus’ body convulsed as a result, though he lay still and silent, his lips slightly parted and eyes closed, faint traces of tears still shining in his pale face. 

“No...no.” Gellert’s heart began to race as a terrible thought rushed through him. “Help me.” Then, fear overtaking him, he screamed out loud. “Somebody, anybody - help me!” He shook Albus again, harder this time, and slapped his face, not daring to cast any spells in case they hurt him further. “Albus, come on,” he pleaded, “just wake up! Open your eyes, squeeze my hand - anything! I don’t care, just do something!”

He thought he heard something in amongst the crashing waves in his ears, but he still could not see clearly in front of him, his thoughts too focused on the boy lying before him. “Help me!” he cried again, in case someone had heard. “Please, we need a Healer, it’s all gone wrong, I didn’t mean to do it, but I can’t fix it. Somebody, anybody, help! By Morgana, someone come! I...” he shuddered as the realisation hit him of just how powerless he was in this moment. “I don’t know what to do...”

But the words faded away into nothing as he looked back upon his lover. He looked so quiet and peaceful, as though he were asleep, oblivious to the cataclysm unfolding around him. Even in the face of Gellert’s anguished cries, even when his body slumped as though he were a puppet with his strings cut, Albus never once flinched, never even gave a sign that there was any life left in him. 

“It’s my fault, all my fault,” whispered Gellert, pulling Albus into his arms and cradling him desperately. “I know it’s my fault, I know I did wrong, please...Albus, please, you can’t leave me! You promised! Albus, _you_ _promised_!”

But even as he heard himself alternating between whispers and screaming, even as he begged for this to stop, for anything else, he felt the chill of Albus’ skin against his cheek, the stillness in his form, the lack of even a breath of air from his lips. 

 _No!_ his mind cried out, shattering him right to his core. _Please, please no, not that, I’ll do anything...just not this - please, anything but this!_

“Albus please,” he whispered, desperate for a sign that would keep that tiny flicker of hope going, “please wake up. We have so much to do together, so much to change. Wake up! Don’t leave me here alone...” His voice cracked and his eyes stung, only this time he knew it was nothing to do with the dust still lingering in the air. “Don’t go on without me...please, wake up...” 

Eventually, he felt his body curl in on itself, increasingly blind and deaf to his surroundings, as his whispers faded away into nothing, along with the last of his hope. His forehead was pressed against Albus’ still soft curls and his hand curled loosely around the base of the boy’s neck, tangling with the tips of his hair. But then he felt something else caught in the tousled strands, something delicate and yet sharp to the touch. Through his half-closed eyes, Gellert could see the jagged edges of the snapped chain catching against his fingers and staining the silver with tiny smatterings of his blood. Still, he ignored that, instead holding the pendant tightly in his hand, the silver cold against his skin, as he bent down to brush his lips over Albus’ for one final kiss, one final promise. 

“I’ll keep it with me,” he whispered. “I’ll keep it safe.”

He had barely had the time to slip the pendant into his pocket when a rough hand grabbed at his shoulder, pulling him to his feet and away from Albus. He cried out, trying to fight back, but the grip was too strong and he found himself shoved against the wall, less than a foot separating him from Aberforth’s furious face, his eyes, so like his brother’s and yet so different too, cracked and fragmented with angry tears. The tiny part of Gellert’s mind that wasn’t painfully numb with grief took a moment to wonder why the boy had not heeded him when he had cried out for help, how he could not have heard him and come to his aid.

But that curiosity did not hold for very long. Aberforth was shouting at him, but only a very few of his words penetrated through the grief. Still, those words were enough.  

_You did this._

_Monster._

_Murderer._

It was true, and Gellert knew it. He might never have once raised his wand against Albus, but he had fought back and attacked the Obscurus, even as he had pleaded with it, begged for it to stop. But more than that, he had failed to protect Albus from getting hurt, might even have pushed him directly into the dark parasite’s path. And now, the consequence was right in front of him, lifeless on the ground. There could be no coming back from that, no matter how he wished it. 

He knew that he had cried out, but he never heard his own words. Instead, accompanied only by the scream of infernal bells in his ears, he bolted out of the house, never once daring to look back. Even as the world started to close in around him, filling his senses with the stifling choke of being buried in ash and dust, he did not stop. He ploughed on, struggling through the thickening air, feeling it tear at his face and his clothes, though it left behind no visible sign, only a wild despair that grew thicker and sharper by the moment. 

He could have kept going for days, never stopping until that house was far away from him, but something caught him and a voice, confused and alarmed, called out his name. He blinked, struggling to get away, only to be held in a strong embrace until he was forced to look down into a pair of aged and familiar eyes watching him as though afraid he would fall apart. 

“Gellert?” Bathilda’s voice was shaking, even as she held him. “Gellert, what can have happened? I thought you were spending the day with Albus?” 

“I tried to stop it,” Gellert choked. “I did, Tante...but it was me...I did it. I did it all...” 

“Did what?” his aunt asked, her hands rubbing up and down his arms as she led him into her house. “What did you do? Is Albus hurt? Are you hurt?” 

“Albus...” Gellert shuddered. “Albus, he...it was my fault...I couldn’t save him!” He grabbed his aunt’s hands pleadingly. “Tante Hilda, you need...I have to get away...please, help me!” He could tell that she asking questions, frantically begging him to tell her what had happened, but he couldn’t stand to answer her. “Get me away from here,” he continued to insist. “I cannot stay any longer. Please...” 

“All right, dear.” Bathilda helped him into a chair and rubbed his back in an attempt to calm him. “Sit down and try to breathe for me. Slowly, just like they showed you at school. Remember?” She brushed her fingers through Gellert’s hair, her voice calm and soothing, though her eyes still brimmed with fear. “Now, why don’t you tell me what’s happened?” 

“I can’t.” Gellert shivered, drawing his coat closer to him. “Please. I have to leave here. Tante Hilda, just help me. I’ll do anything.” 

“There’s no need for that,” Bathilda assured him. “But are you sure -”

“Please!” Gellert could feel desperation sneaking back in, clouding his thoughts again. “I can’t stand it!”  

Finally, Bathilda appeared to grasp the gravity of the situation and she grabbed a small plant pot from the windowsill, Vanishing the cactus from it before she tapped it twice with her wand and placed it in Gellert’s hands. Her eyes filled with tears as she grasped his wrists. “Look after yourself, Gellert.” 

Seconds later, he felt the familiar jerk behind his navel and, as he felt himself being carried away on an invisible wind, he finally allowed himself to look back at the shattered house, wishing that he could say the words that soared through his thoughts. 

_I’m sorry._

_I love you._


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alone and lost, the mind starts to break.

He knew exactly where he was the moment the Portkey landed and his body hit the floor of the deck overlooking the snow-covered mountains. He might not have seen Nurmengard since he was a very small child, but it had hardly changed at all. The high walls were still covered by heavy tapestries and coats of arms, there were shelves upon shelves of books all stocked so full that they might collapse from the weight. Even the elaborately wrought furniture was still just as it had always been, standing as proud and haughty as a monarch, steadfast and unyielding. And high above, the great ebony chandelier watched, casting its imposing, almost celestial, eyes over everything that lay beneath it.

It should have been majestic, awe-inspiring. A castle fit for a king of kings. But as the red evening sun burst over the mountains and through the glass windowpanes, Gellert felt as though he was looking at it through a curtain, but one that hid nothing from him. It forced him to see just how unkind the years had been to Nurmengard. The hangings that had once been so proud and bright now hung limp and faded, the bold colours drained into nothing. The books were stained and yellowed so the chipped gold of the titles was barely visible. They appeared so worn and old that one might fall apart in the hand of anyone who tried to pick it up. The furniture was cracked and frail, as one brought from the height of power down to cowering in rags. Dust and cobwebs covered everything, taunting him, reminding him that nothing could stay unchanged forever. Everything would become a victim to the ravages of time. 

It stank of grief, of lives wasted, of loves lost. Gellert felt himself almost choking on it and he closed his eyes, trying to block out the sight. But even as he could no longer see, he could do nothing to keep out the terrible secret music that stabbed him even as he forced himself to stand up. The melody that no one spoke of, that only he could hear. The song that permeated through every thought, filling his mind with the coldness of moonlight. 

The song of despair, of unimaginable pain, of a wound that no healer in the world could repair. 

He could not stand it, could not defend himself against such a blizzard. He had to get out of there, where he went it did not matter, but he could not stay in that room any longer. Still with his eyes closed, not caring for what he might pass in his wake, he rushed away, tearing down flights of stairs, not daring to look until he had been running for what felt like hours. The staircases were dark, the torches long since burned out, the only hint of light coming from the tiny slit windows above him. He could feel his magic cascading and screaming around him, bursts of it crashing through the stone walls, leaving rubble behind him. But he cared nothing for it. This castle, this festering place filled with nothing but illusion, could fall apart around him for all it mattered now. 

Albus was gone. Nothing else mattered. 

The truth suddenly ripped through him and he stumbled and fell, drowning under the weight of it. He hit the cold stone floor hard and felt his body curl around itself, barely able to hear his own cries. He felt the fragile grasp he had managed to hold on his mind shatter as wave after wave of pain crashed over him, bleeding through the halls, wrapping around him and squeezing him until he finally gave in and let it carry him away into an ice cold darkness.

~*~

It was entirely dark when he finally opened his eyes again, but he could barely find the strength within him to light his wand with the faintest sickly grey glow. He felt drenched, as if his own inner light had been extinguished, only leaving him with the faintest, most destitute remnants to allow him to pull himself back to his feet and continue on downwards. He could not have said where he was going, only that he could not stay still any more. The longer he continued to focus on moving, the less time he had to think. To remember.

The stairs were endless, dizzying, the freezing darkness piercing his mind so that more than once he had to stop and press his forehead against the damp stone walls with his eyes screwed shut. Flashes of light burst across his overcast sight, small as raindrops, but as silently fierce as lightning, cutting through the clouds and forcing him further down.

Eventually, the pitiful light from his wand died away, but he did not rekindle it. He had no interest in what he might find, even though he had never gone so far into the depths of Nurmengard. Instead, he relied on the touch of water dripping coldly around him, sliding through his hair and over his face and the stifling funk of the earth to tell him he must have gone deep underground. He felt himself trip over something in front of him, heard the sound of metal chains scratching across the floor as loudly as the flames of magic fired during a vicious fight. A fight not unlike -

“No!” he shouted out, grasping handfuls of his hair as though he could rip the thought straight out of his head. His voice shook and echoed wildly around the silent chamber, threatening to bring the walls down around him, but he did not flinch. “Please, not that,” he croaked, unsure suddenly of whether the water crashing over his skin was coming from the leaking pipes or from his own eyes. “Not that...please, I don’t want to...don’t make me...”

But it was too late. He stayed, frozen in place, as the scene floated in front of him and melted into the image of the first, and only, person to look at him and to truly see him, to understand him, lying far too still on the floor, the light dusting of freckles that Gellert had kissed so many times now standing out on his skin. He watched himself drop to his knees on the ground beside Albus, pulling him into his arms and frantically trying to wake him, the wildness in his own eyes matched only by the cold peace settling over Albus’ face and drifting through his body, leaving him unresponsive to Gellert’s screams. He could no longer hear his own words clearly, but he could remember them only too well. They would be burned into his mind for the rest of his life.

_“You can’t leave me! You promised! Albus, you promised!”_

“You promised...” he whispered, shuddering at the sting of salt water on the corners of his cracked and bruised lips. “You promised me we would be together no matter what...you promised, Albus...”

The whispers echoed around his head, flying through the room on wings made of blades, each word lashing at him and leaving painfully invisible scars in their wake. He might have been trapped there for an age, torturing himself with his own cries, had he not found a long crack in what he had thought to be a solid stone wall. He pushed against it, feeling it slowly creak open and reveal another, larger, room behind it. More out of desperation to get away from his painful memories than out of any curiosity to discover any more of Nurmengard’s secrets, he darted through the door and slammed it behind him, wrapping his hands around his head as he struggled to pull himself back from the edge.

When he finally felt able to look up again, once the screaming had almost died away, he realised he was in a high stone room with an elaborately painted ceiling. But unlike the dark and brooding aesthetic of the upstairs palace, here the colours were lighter and more soothing, as though he was now hearing the vibrating harmony of a harp after being surrounded by the dissonance of a fragmented orchestra.

And yet, he still felt the cold. It might not be that all-consuming deep freeze that had ripped him to shreds inside and left him bleeding, but now he he felt numb and detached from everything around him, as though there was nothing left inside him. Nothing except a shard of ice gliding dangerously close to his heart and pulling him further away from the world he knew.

The world without _him_.

“Albus...”

The name escaped him as if it were a prayer, giving him enough strength to light the candles, almost hypnotised by the pale wax running down the tarnished silver candelabras. But watching the ethereal brightness and the flickering light of the candles began to seer at his eyes and he had to tear them away, forced for the moment to seek out the sparse shades of darkest night until his sight adjusted enough that he could take in the marbled shades of pale sunset on the walls and the silver adornments draped around the pillars. However, he could not stand to watch the stained glass windows as the movement of the scenes in the now wild and spitting candlelight was too much for his exhausted mind to handle. He could barely even recognise what was depicted there, even though he knew there were familiar faces from tales and histories he had been told of since he was born. Instead, he turned his attention to the faded and threadbare carpet, as blue as oceans, and dropped to his knees again, running his fingers through the thick fibres and gripping the strands so tightly he almost tore them to pieces. At that moment, he wished he could, wished he had the strength to. It would have been a welcome distraction. Instead, he just pushed himself further against the carpet, feeling the scalding burn even through his clothes. Deeper and deeper he drowned in the flaming sea, letting himself fall into the agony, knowing it was no less than he deserved. Even now, he could see Albus’ face watching him, his eyes bright with excitement as they discussed their plans, how they would change the lives of wizardkind, tear away this old dark world and bring in a new golden age where they would no longer have to hide.

_“For the greater good.”_

That had been their message, their reason for what they did. To change things that had stayed dormant for too long. But now the words only brought a bitter trill of laughter to Gellert’s lips, harsh as bile in his stomach. How could he possibly hope to carry out such plans when his own reason for doing so, his reason to hope, was no longer with him? Things had to change, he knew that, and he had wanted to be one of the heroes who could make it happen. Someone who would be revered in years to come, who would have statues built in his memory all across the wizarding world. It had been a wonderful vision of a future filled with promise, but to do it alone? To be commemorated for centuries in gold or ivory or even marble, but to stand by himself without the most important person in his life beside him? Gellert would rather have watched their world go down in flames than consider such a thing. It was a shocking, terrifying realisation, but he could not deny it. He had always believed himself to be strong by himself, more than capable of carrying out these glorious plans alone, if he had to. No one who had met him could deny his power, his ambition or his intellectual brilliance. But when Albus had been torn away from him, it seemed everything that made Gellert who he was had been torn away with him. Now, he was a ghost of himself, floating through an airless stream of nothingness.

He had almost driven himself back into a state of catatonic obscurity, when he saw a flash of silver fall through the air beside him, distracting his encroaching stupor. He reached out and caught it, startled when it fell heavy against his palm, for it had looked as delicate as a shard of starlight.

But he did not even have to look at it to know what it was. The memory came back to him only too clearly in that moment. How right their intertwined magic had felt, drawing them closer to each other, the music of their hearts beating as one. He could still see the shimmering tears of bright joy in Albus’ eyes as they had lain together, naked in each other’s arms, and silently repeated their vows. How their magic had sung out to them in response, enveloping them safely together, binding them together, body and soul. A promise of what would come, a love that would endure, no matter what.

_“For truth, for freedom, and for the greatest good of all. For love.”_

Gellert shuddered as a gasp ripped through him, forcing him to sit up and pay attention to his own words. The words he had spoken in that binding moment. Surely his mind had not become so broken that he could forget such a vow, even for a second. Yet it was clear that he had, but not only that, he had come close to giving in altogether, to letting himself rot here, alone and forgotten.

Albus would never have wanted that. He would have held him close and calmed him, bringing him home again and reminding him that there was so much for them to see, so much for them to do together.

“But you are not here now, are you?” he choked out. “All those things we said we would do...”

He trailed off when, as if in response, he saw the two drops of their blood contained in that single white sphere slowly start to weave themselves together, caught in a strangely intimate dance with each other. At the same time, the metal started to grow hot in his hand, but not so that it threatened to harm him. Instead, it caressed him with the gentle sunlight of summer, drifting underneath his skin to reach his heart and calm the gale raging inside him. He closed his eyes as his soul cracked and shattered over again, only this time the pieces slowly began to reform, not into what they had once been, that would not be possible, but into something that fed the breath of life into him again and cleared some of the dagger-sharp mist from his mind.

He forced himself to sit back upright and lean against one of the pillars, the pendant clutched in his trembling fingers, and watched, almost hypnotised, as the drops of blood continued to intertwine themselves, never parting from each other for more than a second and then always coming back together. They seemed to be watching him, giving him strength, telling him what he knew he had to do, what he had always known he had to do. He could not give in now, not when there was so much to be done.

“I will change things,” he whispered, cradling the pendant against his heart. “Albus, I will. I swear.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeek, poor Gellert! He's not in a good way, is he? Also, I couldn't get the idea of Nurmengard as a sort of ancestral family palace out of my head, so I kind of went with it. 
> 
> Feedback and kudos make my day, as always! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What could draw Gellert back to a place he had avoided for so long?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So, here’s the final chapter, hope you enjoy it! (It turned out way longer than the previous two, but oh well!)

He stood back from the uneven brick wall, staring out across the silent village until he saw the church looming at him out of the glare from the early evening sun. For such a small and unimposing building, it managed to somehow overshadow its surroundings, even the large yew trees, thick with shining dark leaves. In the windswept graveyard, the tombstones and crosses stood darkly against the sunlit walls of the church, rising out of the ground, rising out of the ground and watching, silent, dark and cold as shadows. From inside the church, people’s voices, magical and non-magical alike, rang out alongside each other in a strange collection of disharmonious choirs that made Gellert shudder. He wished that he could filter out that cursed noise and lose himself, as he once had, in the easy floating notes of the grand piano. The picture was trying to form inside him, but he could not bring it properly to fruition, the ashen state of his mind refusing to allow him to ignore anything that might invade it, no matter the pain it might cause him.

Why had he come back here, he wondered. Two years, he had managed to stay away, had managed to reject the ghostly whisper in the back of his thoughts that reminded him of that one summer, so full of hope and promise, at least for a short while. He would admit that he had some lingering regret that he had not made more of an effort to maintain contact with his aunt when she had been good to him during his time here. But he had somehow never been able to find the right words to say to her, and he was sure she felt the same, since she too had not contacted him since his departure. 

Still, something had brought him to this precise spot where he stood, shivering in spite of the summer warmth, and watching the landscape blankly. A dream or a vision, for once he could not be certain, but it was powerful, almost overwhelmingly so. The sleepy strands of pink in the darkening blue sky, the darkly looming church that stood so boldly it almost blocked out the sun, and the fragmented songs from inside. It made him shiver even more, so much so that he had to sit on the wall and gather his heavy cloak closer to him, though it was old and reeked of months of fighting and death.

As he sat, the sun shifted and hit the church right at one of the stained-glass windows. The light sent a fiery inferno of red and gold speeding through the air as though it was headed straight for Gellert’s heart. He could not scream, could barely even make a sound, but he threw himself backwards, almost tumbling off the wall as he shielded his eyes from the blaze. And yet, he found that he could not turn away entirely, could not block it out, even as the burn caused his eyes to water and sting. But through the mist of tears, he thought he saw a shape in the midst of the colours. It looked like a bird, wings outstretched and feathery plumes flying majestically behind him.

But it was not any mere bird. It was a regal bird, shining like gold, a king of kings.

A phoenix. 

 _Albus_.  

Out of the numbing clouds in his mind, a thought managed to surface, drawing Gellert back to the present. In his broken vision, the one that had led him back here, there had been an old wooden bench where someone had left a newspaper behind. He had walked up to that bench, had watched an old man drop his paper there. He had taken a seat on the warm metal and tried to feed some air into his pain-filled lungs, even using the newspaper to contain the harsh coughs that ripped through him, barely even pausing to look at it for more than a cursory second. 

And yet, there it was right at the front of his mind, with the date displayed proudly on the front page.

August 8th, 1901. Two years to the day that everything had changed. Two years exactly since his world had splintered, fractured and then shattered into pieces.  

Now it made sense. Now, he knew why he had been brought back here. He had not been able to face the thought of Godric’s Hollow again, of reliving all that they had been and had eventually lost. Even now, he felt a surge of nausea fill his throat, nearly choking him. Every muscle cried out in agony, urging him to use any strength he could find in his inflamed body to turn and walk away. To leave this place and never return.

But he could not do it. He could not ignore this last gift Albus had bestowed upon him. This final message - no, this final _request_ from his lover. To do what he should have done in the beginning.

Taking a pain-filled breath, even as his chest throbbed in protest, he stumbled back in the direction of the church, each step a tread on rocks as sharp as knives. The closer he came, the more fiercely the burn of the singing once again attacked his mind. He stumbled several times, once almost cracking his head against a marble angel. 

By the time he rounded the corner of the church, he could hardly see in front of him without freezing fire shooting through his body. Every step sounded painfully loud to his ears, the grass cracking and growling under his feet. Still, the gravestone he was looking for was right in front of him now, and he could almost picture it. Tall and dark, surrounded by ragged and wild grass as though no one had visited it in a long time.

Except that there was someone there now. Someone kneeling in front of the grave, trembling fingers tracing the letters engraved into the stone, and his forehead pressed against it as though in prayer, so that all Gellert could see was a tangle of ragged auburn curls blowing in the light breeze that had just sprung up.

He did not hear himself speak, though he must have made a sound, because the young man started and turned around, jumping to his feet with a shout of his own. Bright blue eyes were wide with shock and his lips moved as he waved and gestured frantically.

But Gellert did not hear a word that was thrown at him. His own heartbeat drowned out everything, coalescing into one loud roar. He felt his knees finally give way as he hit the ground, tasting blood as his teeth dug into his tongue. He did not care, however; instead, the pain was a welcome distraction, allowing him to finally give into the nothingness that was closing in around him.  

 ~*~

The strangeness of feeling warm and cold at the same time drew Gellert back to consciousness. He could sense something soft and heavy covering him, but even as he tried to pull it closer to him, he still felt chilled to his bones. Even as his eyes began to open, he could see icy mist rising in front of him every time he drew breath. 

He tried to sit up and turn around, wanting to see where he was that could look so familiar and yet so foreign. But he only found himself crying out in pain at the sensation of a thousand needles being jabbed into his skin. His own scream nearly tore his mind open and the pain forced him to lie back down, his skin cold and clammy, even as he pulled his cloak back around him. 

Apparently, though, he was not alone. His scream had roused someone else and there was a rustle of...was that hay? It looked like hay...as whoever it was scrambled towards him. 

“Thank Merlin,” they said in a choked and ragged whisper as they came into Gellert’s splintered line of sight. “I thought you would never wake up. But by Godric, what’s happened to you?” 

Gellert’s heart almost stopped as he looked up and saw, once again, who was in front of him, reaching out to touch his hair or his face. “Don’t!” he cried out, wishing he could move away. “Don’t touch me!” He blinked several times, trying to banish the illusion. “You’re not really here, I know you’re not.” He laughed bitterly; of course this was just the trick his cruel mind would play on him on a day such as this. 

“What are you talking about?” the spectre asked, a shadow of confusion drifting over its beautiful face. “I am right here. Don’t you recall, I saw you in the graveyard -” 

“No!” A surge of magic burst from Gellert’s fingertips, but it did nothing more than to leave him exhausted and blistered. “Just get away from me! Leave me alone! Stop,” his voice cracked and he shuddered all over, “stop torturing me...”

“Hey, hey,” whispered the spirit as it swooped in to catch Gellert’s hand in its own. “If you want me to go then I will, but I swear I am not here to harm you, only to help you.” 

The fingers wrapping around his felt so soothing and warm and...so _real_ , that Gellert could not help but tangle his own fingers with them. “Who are you?” he finally asked. “At least tell me that.” 

To his dismay, a shining dampness formed in the vison’s bright eyes and a droplet of water spilled down its freckled cheek. “Gellert, it’s me,” it gasped. “Surely you cannot have forgotten already?” 

Forgotten? The very word almost made what remained of Gellert’s heart crumble. Of course he had not forgotten, he never could. But... 

“You can’t be him. I saw him...two years ago today...” he lowered his eyes, unable to look into that face as he said the words, “he...he died in front of me...” 

The shadows of heartache faded away only to be replaced by pure bewilderment. “I - what are you talking about? I’m not dead, Gellert. Why would you think...” he trailed off, comprehension suddenly dawning. “Your vision. The one where you saw me killed by an Obscurial.” 

“I screamed at you to wake up,” whispered Gellert, his hand tightening around Albus’. “I tried every method I could think of to bring you back. And then I saw...across your chest...” he clamped his mouth shut, swallowing the nausea that fought to burst out of him as the memory that had haunted his dreams night after night for months exploded into the forefront of his mind again. 

“I heard you.” Albus stared down at their hands, his thumb stroking Gellert’s wrist. The sunlight filtering in through the gaps in the roof brought new cares and lines on his still youthful face into sharp relief. “I mean, I heard you shouting my name and crying for help. I wanted to reach out and let you know I was all right, but I couldn’t. It was as you said to me once; I felt as though I was buried in darkness and smoke and I couldn’t get out. There was something pressing down on me, stopping me from waking up or even breathing.” He sighed. “I had no idea you thought I was dead. If I had known,” he stopped and looked away. 

“What?” Gellert stared at him. “What would you have done? Come to find me? Stood by my side as we did everything we had planned?” 

“No.” Albus shuddered. “No, I would not have come to find you. I could never have stood by while you caused so much carnage. But neither would I have let you carry on thinking I was dead. I would have found a way to let you know what had really happened, even if I could not stand to see you.” 

Gellert had been distracted by the fragments of a memory trying to make itself known once again. He could hear muffled cries and screams blown away on the wind, and see flares of light from curses searing in front of his eyes, though he could not quite remember the event in question. As such, it took him some time to realise what Albus had said. “What - what do you mean?” he asked. “What really happened?” 

Albus chewed nervously on his lip. “I was not the one who died during our duel. But someone else did.”

Gellert was about to ask what that meant, but even before he had spoken, he remembered that day once again and realised he did not need to ask. There had only been one other person in that room. One person not directly involved in the fight. 

And yet one person who had been in the firing line as the curses had been thrown around the room. 

“How did it happen?” he asked, feeling bile rise up inside him, almost choking him. 

“I don’t know.” Albus’ eyes were now fixed on where Gellert’s sleeve had fallen away to reveal the blisters, cuts and scars on his wasted arm. “It...it could have been any one of us.” 

He was now tracing small circles over Gellert’s skin, a move that once comforted him, but no longer. Instead, he had to clench his teeth and, with his other hand, he ignored the wrench of his joints enough to grasp onto strands of hay to distract himself. But when Albus brushed against a still raw and sensitive gash, he spasmed and cried out in agony, tremors shooting through his body, every nerve aflame.

Albus started at the noise and pulled away in horror as though he was the one who had been burned. “Gellert, I’m sorry!” He stared at the marks on Gellert’s arm with the distress of one who was seeing them properly for the first time. “Who did this to you? Tell me.” 

Gellert coughed and winced as the fabric of his clothes brushed against his skin, catching on the still open wounds on his back. “Had to,” he murmured, staring up at the roof. “There was no other - no other way...nothing else worked...”

“You mean...” Albus went chalk white, his freckles looking almost black now, “you did - Gellert, why? Why would you do something like this to yourself?” 

“It was the only way.” Gellert struggled to keep his eyes open. “I had to stay focused, I had to keep my promise. Change things, make them right - for you.” His hand, still shaking in mid-air, touched Albus’ cheek. “I was afraid that if I stopped, if I let myself fall...I would never come back.” 

“No!” Albus clasped his hand, pressing his lips to Gellert’s fingers, the kiss damp with tears. “Gellert, I would never have wanted this for you! You could have died!” 

“I know. I always knew that. And if that was my penance, if that was the price I had to pay to make things right...then so be it.” 

“It should never have gone this far,” choked Albus. “No cause, no promise, is worth you risking your life like this. I don’t care who you made it for.” He covered Gellert’s hand with both of his, rubbing them together, trying to bring him some warmth, though it made no difference. “Listen to me. Here’s what’s going to happen. For now, we’re just going to stay up here together. I’ll go and get you something to eat and then you’re going to rest for tonight. Then, tomorrow, we’ll go to your aunt’s house and start to get you well again.”

“Will she want to see me?” 

“Of course she will. She’s missed you nearly as much as I have. When you left, she was so worried. She kept your bedroom made up, just as it always was, in the hope that, one day, you would come back.” Albus bit his lip and added quietly, “just like I also hoped you would.” 

“You hoped I would?” Gellert shot upright, causing the barn to sway wildly, sparks of light dancing before his eyes. “Why? I attacked your brother! I might also have killed your sister! Not to mention everything else -” 

Albus shook his head. “Things happened that day that should not have happened, I won’t deny it. Ariana’s death was one of those things, yes, but I am not going to condemn you for something when none of us know for sure that you were the one who did it.” 

Gellert sighed and lay back again. “But it could have been me. Please, don’t deny it.”

“It could have been,” Albus admitted with a sigh, “but even if it was, it was an accident.” 

“Was it?” asked Gellert tiredly. “I can barely tell any more. I was out of control, Albus, and you know that. I saw it in your face; you were terrified. How do you know I wouldn’t have wanted her to die? How do I even know that any more?”

“Because you were fighting the Obscurus, Gellert, not Ariana herself.” Albus looked down. “At the time, yes, I felt betrayed, hurt and confused. I could hardly believe that the boy who had come to mean so much to me could have done what you did. But then, as time passed, I realised that you were just as scared as I was and that fear clouded your judgement, just as my heartache did to me. You might have been the one who lost control, but in the end, we were all to blame for what happened.”

“I’m not sure your brother would agree with that,” murmured Gellert as he lay down again. “We both know he holds me responsible for what happened, and there’s every chance that he would be right to do so. And if he found out I was ever here...” 

“He won’t,” Albus assured him “He’s working at the Hog’s Head in the village near Hogwarts now. We’ve hardly spoken since Ari’s funeral. And besides, I think I’m the one he blames. How do you think I ended up with this?” He carefully tapped his crooked nose. “But none of that matters at the moment. My only priority right now is getting you the help you need and making sure you get better. We can talk about everything afterwards, when you’re strong enough.” He ran his fingers gently through Gellert’s ragged hair and watched him critically as he stood up. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

Gellert shivered. “Don’t go,” he choked out, hating how desperate he sounded. “Stay with me, just for a bit longer.” A spasm of pain wracked through his exhausted body that left him barely able to lift his arm to try and catch Albus’ arm. His vision flickered in and out and he closed his eyes tightly, not wanting to look and have to watch Albus disappear from his side all over again.

“What? No, Gellert, no.” Albus’ voice sounded so far away, but there was no mistaking the concern in it. “Hey, open your eyes for me. Come on, don’t let go now.”

A warm hand touched his face, giving him just enough strength to allow his eyelids to flicker open enough to meet that familiar pair of bright blue eyes, shining with tears and alarm. He murmured incoherently to himself and coughed harshly, his body burning as though he had crashed into an icy river.

“Are you...are you going to...” but he couldn’t get the words out. Saying them aloud would just make it too real, too true, and he didn’t think he could survive that, if surviving was even what he was doing now.

Fortunately, Albus seemed to understand. “No!” He winced and lowered his voice. “No, Gellert. I’m just going to find you something to eat, but I’ll come straight back to you. I’m not walking away from you.” He frowned for a second and pulled something out of his pocket, dropping it into Gellert’s hand. “Hold this,” he whispered, brushing his lips over Gellert’s cheek. “Hold it and remember how it felt when we made it. Take it as my promise that I will come back to you.”

Gellert watched him leave before he turned his attention to the object. His breath caught harshly in his throat when he saw their pendant resting in the palm of his hand, just as bright and flawless as it had been when he had last touched it. It had been hidden in his coat for the last two years, but he had never been able to hold it or even look upon it, remembering it as a terrible token of what he had lost, of the price he had been forced to pay for his love. And yet, suddenly, he saw it again as it once was, each twist in the silver shimmering in the gentle light of the sun, a reminder of the promise they had made to each other, that precious moment that he had thought turned to dust as his mind had crumbled further and further around him. But even as he held it again, he could not tear his eyes away from the centre where the two drops of their blood still rested. It seemed to pulse with light, growing brighter by the moment and pulling him closer and closer. He felt enthralled and alarmed in equal measure, half -closing his eyes as he felt the strange power penetrate his mind, scorching through years of murky haze, burning it away and leaving his mind wide open and raw, but now entirely clear, revealing his memories to him properly for the first time.

He could now see himself, his blonde hair flowing behind him, eyes almost glazed over with determination, marching from city to city, town to town, spreading his message to any who would listen. His voice, cold and clearer as a bell, drew people to him, peasants and nobility alike, all of them stirred by the promise of a better world, a future they would build together where witches and wizards would stand tall and rule openly. A world where they would never fear hatred and persecution, where they could show their powers openly and without limit.

It was everything he had always wanted, everything he and Albus had been planning for. It should have been filled with beauty and hope, just as they had always said it would be. The Greater Good. That was what they had called it. But now, as the memories came into sharper focus, he saw more, knowing now what he had not dared to let himself acknowledge. For all those who had joined him, many others had scorned him, laughed in his face, rejected what he promised.

Now, everywhere he looked, the air was thick with flying curses and screams as people fled, pleading for their lives. Gardens, parks and even buildings burned around him, the flames reflected in the rivers of blood cascading down the streets. Faceless, nameless wizards, all bearing the mark of the Deathly Hallows, tortured helpless victims as Gellert himself stood by, his face stained with tears as cold as his smile as he slashed a man’s throat, laughing as he crumpled to the floor, the life draining from his eyes.

Even in different areas, the results were the same. Each time, even through his freezing tears, Gellert revelled in the destruction he caused, laughing in the face of the death he brought about, smiling even as his clothes were soaked with the blood of his victims.

But he did not laugh or smile now. Fresh, hot tears scalded his face, but the only sound he heard himself utter was a scream that pierced his own heart. He threw the pendant aside and tore himself away, dragging himself back into the barn, the sheer force leaving him gasping and retching into the hay, even as his cries refused to be silenced. 

A blast of agony suddenly laced its way through his body as someone caught his arms and turned him around. He blinked, allowing Albus’ horrified gaze and concerned words to slowly filter through into his mind, though they left him gasping and choking, any lingering energy draining out of him, even as his heart continued to race.

“I...I saw,” he gasped and grabbed at Albus’ shirt. “I saw everything. Death, screams that almost ripped the air apart. And fire straight from hell itself!”

Albus frowned. “You...you had a -”

“No!” Gellert shook his head wildly. “It wasn’t the future. It was...it...I was...” but he couldn’t say the words. “Albus, was...is it true? Did I...?”

Albus’ heavy sigh vibrated warmly against his shoulder. “The news was filled with reports of bloodshed, all done in the name of the greater good. Time went by and fewer and fewer were spared your wrath. I could hardly stand to look at the reports after a few months. Just seeing your name made me sick to my stomach, because I hated to think that such terrible deeds could have been attributed to someone I thought I knew so well.”

“No...” Gellert groaned, trails of dampness spilling over his face. “So much...so much damage...how could I have...” his voice cracked and he choked on his sobs. “Albus, what have I done?”

“You were crazed with grief.” Albus pulled back to look at him. “I don’t think you even noticed your own followers dying. Your mind was so completely clouded and blinded by loss, you would have killed anyone who stood in your path.” He wiped Gellert’s tears away, fingers warm and steady. “I knew it the moment I saw you collapse in that graveyard. Something was very, very wrong. The shadow standing in front of me then was someone I didn’t recognise. He was not the boy I love. But that boy is still there, Gellert. He’s just been lost and alone for too long. But you won’t be any more. I’ll stand by you, whatever it takes.” He rubbed Gellert’s arms as carefully as he could. “You haven’t lost me, Gellert, and you never will. Just hold onto that knowledge and never let it go, because it will be true for as long as I live.”

“I’m so cold.” Gellert’s breath caught again, sending more freezing steam into the air, even as he felt himself sink backwards again. “I can’t get warm...” 

Albus nodded and scrambled over, reaching for the buttons on Gellert’s shirt. “We need to try and share body heat,” he explained as Gellert flinched back. “Don’t worry, I’ll be careful. I know you’re in pain.”

Despite Albus staying true to his word and being as slow and careful as he could, Gellert still could not hold back his flinches every time the fabric caught on his battered body. He managed not to make a sound, though, at least until Albus removed his own shirt and lay down beside him. “You...oh, Albus...” he gasped, fresh tears spilling out of his eyes as his fingers brushed the jagged dark scar running the length of the man’s collarbone. “Albus, I’m so -”

“Shhh.” Albus lay down beside him and very carefully folded him into his arms, playing with the tips of his hair. “Don’t think about that now. I’m right here with you and I’m going to help you get better again.”

Gellert screwed his eyes shut against the ice blowing through him. “Don’t let me go,” he stuttered, his teeth chattering around the words. “Please, don’t...don’t leave me there again...”

“It’s all right,” Albus whispered, “it’s over now. You’re safe with me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Even with their bare skin pressed together and wrapped in the warm, sun-drenched hay and blankets, Gellert felt as though the winter storm tearing through him would never stop. Every shiver made him ache, every cough shattered another fragile shield in his mind. And yet, with Albus’ hands stroking his battered body and playing with his hair, his gentle voice singing a quiet lullaby of a hopeful future, a world shining with hope for them, he found the chill his mind and his soul had been trapped in start to melt into lighter drops of rainwater. The wind that had raged for so long began to slow, settling into a breeze that whispered words of love and comfort to him, telling him he was safe, that he could let go.

And there, in Albus’ arms, his eyes drifted shut and he finally found the peace he had thought lost to him for too long.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew! That was quite a rollercoaster to write! Hope you liked it!
> 
> As always, comments and kudos make my day. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed the start! :) Kudos and comments make my day!


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